Patient 18
by Kotahsouras
Summary: The man squeezed the trigger, sweat beads forming on his forehead. You try not to look upset as you thrust your hands upwards and outwards, taking a piece of your mind with you and projecting it at him. Immediately it took effect. At first the man looked confused, as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing. Then he dropped to the floor. GothamXReader Insert
1. Prolouge

Welcome, to PsyCo, the world's largest research facility corporations on the psychic phenomenon sweeping the planet.

Here in our Gotham Research Labs, PsyCo takes pride in our top trained scientists and most well-funded programs in all of America. Through our patients, we learn more each day about the powers of the human mind.

The name PsyCo is the combination of Psychic Corporation, or the ' .', as some of the staff and patients refer to it as.

In our Gotham facility, the largest facility in America complete with a secure dorm structure for patients and fourteen research buildings, along with a medical center and emergency room, we have our most gifted patients.

Patients are those who come to PsyCo looking for help controlling their 'powers', or 'gifts'.

We ask that you do not disturb the patients, as they sometimes lose touch on reality from their powers, and if you see one on the run note that they are incredibly dangerous and not to be handled directly.

Enjoy your stay. I am Mainframe, PsyCo's virtual intelligence system, or VIS.

If you see any of our patients on the run, or causing problems, please call the contact numbers below, and our special forces will deal with the problem as soon as possible.

**It came to my attention there are no reader inserts for BTAS Well, no non-romantic ones, anyways~ This is just an intro of sorts, the REAL FUN starts in the next chapter~ Have funnnn~ Oh, and remember to leave reviews! They are my fuel, after all ^^**


	2. Escape

"Stand down, patient! Or I am authorized to use force to get you back in your cell!"

You met this man with a steady, emotionless gaze, eyebrows pulling together ever so slightly. You wondered how you must look to this man, wearing your black PsyCo suit, which was made of some kind of tight sporting material you never found comfortable. Did you look strange, walking towards him barefoot, the raging fire behind you silhouetting your lengthy white hair, which moved through the air as if suspended in water, snaking out behind you and drifting like silver reeds. Did he find you frightening, with your snow colored skin. Laced with thick black lines that intertwined and twisted along your arms, down your belly and back, up your neck, and ending in delicate black swirls that framed your face.

All because of what PsyCo had done to you. All of the needles poked into your brain, all of the liquids squirted into your veins and all of the wires shoved under your skin over the years. Always, a big experiment. A science project.

A freak. Many times you had looked into the reflection of a plexi-glass window and seen the black lines along your skin, touched your cheek, wished they would go away, that your hair would be normal, your skin full of a pinkish glow like the doctor's. You had been this way for as long as you could remember.

"I'm telling you, I'll shoot!" He warned, drawing out a large gun that glinted gray in the firelight behind you. He reached over to his walkie talkie and pressed in the button. "Post 3 requesting backup, Patient 18 escaping. I repeat, requesting backup, has permission to shoot."

'Patient 18'

That was your name, Patient 18. 18 for short.

You couldn't remember what name you had been born with, if you had been born at all. For all you knew, you were a test tube baby. But you had always hoped, always wished... Would your mother's face be pink in glowing? Would it be void of color and framed by these black swirls, the ones glow with energy when you use your power?

'Gift', that's what they called it. They never mentioned to patients that they had a curse that bound them here, that we were not born this way. That they forced these monstrous powers onto us and enslaved us here.

The man squeezed the trigger, sweat beads forming on his forehead. You try not to look upset as you thrust your hands upwards ad outwards, taking a piece of your mind with you and projecting it at him.

Immediately it took effect. At first the man looked confused, as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing. Then his eyes filled with horror and he dropped to the floor clutching his head.

Mental Projection is what they called that one; the ability to put images and emotions into another's head. Talented patients could make their thoughts manifest when using Mental Projection, take form. You had seen them make friends, people to talk to while being escorted past their cell doors. They kept those patients in a special part of the dorms.

You had just pumped every image of pain and torture they had inflicted upon you into that man's head. Shots, surgery, loneliness, your damp, dark little cell, evaluation tests, punishments when you had misbehaved or made a mistake as a child.

You slowly stepped around the man, stopping for a moment to crouch down and touch a single finger to his neck. You could sense he was terrified, and in pain, but he would be okay in a matter of thirty minutes.

They called that one Ecological Empathy; it was the gift of sensing wellbeing of another, and it rooted from sensitivity to nature. However, you could only gather your information through touch. More gifted, advanced patients could just sense it from being around you. They went crazy a lot, and get 'put down' the most by the Doctors. Being around all of this fear and sadness and pain drive them insane. So they are killed.

Leaving the man there on the ground, you felt your hair writhe behind you, and tried to fruitlessly flatten it. However, often when you used your powers this happened. The Doctors had run several tests on your hair, but had never fully explained why this happened. Often because this frightened doctors, they put your hair into a tight bun at all times.

"Okay..." You muttered, scanning around the area. The fire was creeping closer, and it was getting hotter. "This is B Dorm... A Dorm is next..." It was possible to show emotion when you were alone. Here in this damned madhouse they schooled you, clothed you, cut you open, and made you a weapon... used your emotions against you. Used them to figure you out. So when around others you put on a controlled mask. Something unreadable. Something that prevented weakness.

After setting the last block on fire by letting out a pyrokenetic patient, it was almost too easy to slip past the guards. Surely, more where on their way, and you needed to get out of here.

You had never been free, never known freedom, yet you craved it.

As you broke through the next pair of double doors, you were greeted with the clicking sound of thirty loaded guns being cocked, and aimed at you. Your face went dull, and your lifeless eyes scanned the crowd of guards, all who cared nothing for you.

The face of Doctor Sennica caught your attention. He held a megaphone and stood at the mouth of the sea of guards, his wire brim glasses flashing in the remaining firelight that disappeared as the double doors behind you slammed closed and clicked.

You fought the urge to gulp. They had you cornered.

"18!" Sennica's voice sounded frantic and relieved, as if seeing you unharmed caused him a source of comfort.

You knew better.

With his perfectly painted mask of concern he continued, "18, what are you doing? You could have been hurt!"

You remained silent, hair flaring as a sign that you knew he was full of lies. He raised a brow, but ignored it otherwise.

Glasses flashing malevolently he purred into the microphone, "Don't do this, Patient 18. Don't throw away everything we've worked for, together!"

You fought to keep your voice calm and level. "All you are interested in is power."

"Patient 18, don't you see? SEE all the possibilities? Once we complete our tests on you, once you finish training, we can set you free! You have a whole life ahead of you, 18! A real name, a life and home! Don't throw this away!"

You blinked, slightly taken back. You would like to believe that. You would like to believe that very much. "T-That's a lie, Sennica!"

"The papers are already filled out." He insisted. "Once you become superior, we can set you free!"

You looked at him, then at all of the gunman. Was that possible? That none of this had to happen? That you could just bear it, just a LITTLE longer, then be set free to live as you please?

Putting your arms down, you took a timid step forwards, then another. You continued in this pattern until you had reached Sennica, who had outstretched arms. He took you in a small embrace, and for a moment you truly believed what he was saying. Nobody had to be hurt. They would set you free.

"Once your back in your cell, I'm going to punish you until you can't walk."

Oh, no.

He was whispering in your ear, voice low and full of sickly sweet venom. "Then, we might have to put one of those fancy neutralizing collars on you, so you can never get loose again. Like patient 26, you know?"

You froze, thinking to Patient 26, who was in the block you had set on fire. Every time she attempted escape the collar would inject her with poison, and she would vomit and vomit until they gave her the antidote. Then the Doctors would remove one of her fingers, for each time she tries to escape. She only had four left.

Everything after that happened very fast. You felt a fear you had never felt before rise from your gut and fill your throat, choking you, clouding you judgment, making a scream well into your throat.

With the scream you felt a current of energy explode from your body. It was no use trying to stop it, it was too late.

The men everywhere began to scream in agony. They began to drop, to writhe in terror and pain.

Sennica just dropped to the floor, body wracking with jerking motions and eyeballs rolling back into his head from behind his glasses.

Oh, no. Nonono.

That one... they called a Psionic Blast. It was an overload of another's mind, causing pain, vomiting, memory loss, unconsciousness, vegetated state, or... death. You had no idea you were capable of that one.

Soon they began to faint. Some reached for their guns, eyes seeing some kind of horrible image they tried to crawl away from, bumping into each other blindly like a box of maggots. Then they fainted and fell back, red faced and covered in a sheen of sweat.

You staggered back several steps, then shook your head and tried to concentrate. You had no time to freak out. Just move. Keep going. Get out of here. They'll slice off your arm after this if they catch you. Chop off your nose, like they did with Patient 04.

You pretended they weren't bodies as you stepped over them. You pretended they were dirt mounds. You pretended they had no families, and that you might have caused them permanent brain damage. You kept images of the sun you had never seen but in pictures in your mind, recalling how the sun was described in books during school as a child. Recalled how it was supposed to be warm, welcoming, and bright. You dared not touch any of the bodies, feeling you would sense the worse.

Your hands reached out with a mind of their own and threw the last set of double doors open.

This was it. This was freedom.

Bitter cold slammed into you like a wall of bricks, and you fought the urge to leap back inside. It was nighttime.

What was this? Winter? You had never seen winter. Never seen anything but images out of windows, in TV's, just out of reach, just out of access.

You had never been outside for more than a second, years and years ago. Of course, they had giving you all of the vaccinations and taken care of you to an extent to keep you free of disease like some kind of cattle.

This, in a way, was a spectacle. Just the feel of a bitter cold breeze not generated by a fan.

However, sirens blared and wailed all around and you knew you had no time to waste standing here.

You had no idea where to go. You had no idea to where exactly you were running TO, but your legs moved fast, trying to outrun their last speed with each step you took. Blurs of color and voices where simply a blur and you ignored them, knowing you were not the fastest runner, and you had to keep moving before they realized you WHERE running.

A gate came into view, sliding open as red lights flashed across your skin and the pavement from alarms everywhere. Huge armed trucks where making their way inside.

You gulped, counted your lucky stars, and then darted out of the shadows, past the trucks and off of the concrete onto some form of gravel. The rocks stabbed at your feet and you cringed, but dared not stop. You could hear people shouting, and a truck screeching against the pavement as it made a sharp turn to follow you.

You couldn't focus, and your breath had begun to come in painful, short gasps. The human body was not made to run like this, not like some kind of frightened deer.

You were sure that you looked more like a ghost, pale skin and white hair snaking out behind you as you darted over rocks, not even stopping as your feet began to leak red.

Just run. Ignore the pain. Keep going. Stop and you are dead.

If you kept running on this gravel road you were a goner. So, you made a sharp turn and plunged into thick underbrush. Some kind of woods? You had no time to stop and observe your surroundings.

The truck never slowed, engine roaring angrily behind you, never slowing, never speeding up.

With horror you realized that the driver wanted you to drop from exhaustion. This chase was nothing more than a short game of cat-and-mouse.

You turned again, and gained still no distance from the vehicle.

Another turn, but this time you slipped and lost some distance. You picked yourself up and kept going, tears spilling from your eyes and each breath ripping at your lungs.

Then you found yourself face to face with a raging current, and you where cornered. The truck screeched to a stop, and you heard from behind you someone step out of the driver seat.

"Patient 18, please, stop! You don't understand!" That was the voice of the head guard, whose name you didn't re-call because you never got into any troubles. You had been an obedient science project, until now. "You are safe!"

You turned to see his face, hair flaring angrily. His featured where soft, gun still in his pocket, eyes pleading. "Just come with me!"

You were NOT going to fall for this again.

You did something really stupid, then. As he took a step forwards, you turned and got a running start, before hurling yourself into the raging water below.

You had never been in a current before, and had no real idea what was going to happen. However, as soon as you were under and you heard the man scream and the current snatched hold of you, you understood with fear.

The waves where too fast and it was nearly impossible to claw to the surface and get a small gulp of oxygen before being dragged back underneath again. The water was freezing cold and every time you surfaced cold, sharp beads of pain exploded all over the exposed skin of your face.

While trying to struggle, you only dimly caught sight of a rock, before making impact and immediately blacking out with a sickening crunch.


	3. Breaking Point

"Is she dead, Man?"

"Hell if I know, poke her with a stick!"

"No way, Man. What if she's dead?"

"Then I would feel wrong for thinking about looting her."

"Would you still do it?"

"Hell yeah."

"Sick!"

The first thing you feel is a thick, slow, throbbing pain that began in your back, then shot up your spine into your brain. Your ribs where sore, and your legs even worse. You hadn't even noticed that two men stooped above you, their eyes trained on your chest to see if you were breathing.

"Dude, just poke her with the stick!"

There was a sharp pain in your side, and your eyes flew open, numb limbs kicking to life as you gasped for gulps of air and scrambled backwards like a crab.

The two men looked strange, at least to you- the only people you had seen where the ones that wore lab coats, or hospital uniforms. Where all clothes in the outside world so.. ragged? Both of the men where tall and lanky- one had shoulder length brown wavy hair, the other with cropped black hair.

"Holy shit, man!" The one with long brown hair jumped, stepping back. "Look at her hair!"

"It's floating, man!"

You absently reached back and touched your hair, feeling it snaking out in an invisible current of energy behind you. You noted their hair, and how it stayed put...

It had scared the doctors. Would everyone be frightened of your hair? The trait was not uncommon among other patients.

Patients...

Memory came flooding back to you, nearly making you dizzy as you recollected.

Oh, god.

You had gotten free.

You had gotten free! You twisted around slightly, pivoting your head to glance at the raging waters behind you. The waters had died down, leaving only a slow, lazy current that sluggishly dragged itself along. You entire body ached with cold and pain, clothes completely soaked through, your short sleeved arms bitingly freezing. You wrapped them around yourself, then smiled wide.

You had gotten free. The whole unfamiliar world was ahead of you.

"She's smiling all creepy!" The brown haired man fretted, looking to the black haired man for guidance.

The black haired man fixed you with cold, hungry, cynical eyes. He reminded her of a Doctor as he hissed, "She ain't normal." You could practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. "How much do you wanna bet she's a runaway o' some kind? You bet she's an Arkham escapee?"

The brown haired man gasped and stumbled, as if it all made sense now.

You began to realize how truly freezing it was now, your skin burning. You smile began to fade as you whispered in a hoarse voice, "Arkham?"

He ignored you and continued to speak to the brown haired man. "How much do you think one of those villains would pay for 'er? If anything, we can throw her to Bane."

"B-Bane? He would eat her for breakfast." The man looked at you, and all you saw behind them was confusion and a childish disposition. "We could toss her to Penguin for hired help instead!"

"Oh yeah, I forgot he payed out the wazoo for them showgirls 'o his."

Your stomach twisted. What was going on? You had no idea WHO he was talking about, or what an Arkham was. You tried again to use your voice, but it still came out gravelly. "You must have the wrong person, I-"

Very suddenly they were upon you. You panicked, not understanding what was going on, and screeched as their hands snakes around your waist and arms, pinning them behind you back and lifting you up off the ground.

"Ah, shut up, Toots." The black haired man snapped, and you paused for a moment before kicking violently and doing everything you could to make him let go. For such a famished looking man, he had a firm, unbreakable grip.

"Release me!" You begged meekly, jerking and twisting in his iron arms. "Release me or else!"

They both laughed at you, and suddenly you found them profoundly daunting as they loomed over you, smiled wide and stretching up to their eyes.

"Maybe even before we give you up, we could have some fun wit' ya'."

The Brown haired man frowned for a moment, before shrugging and smiling again. You did not understand what he meant, and did not want to.

You thought quickly of something horrible, anything horrible. Patient 26's fingers being chopped off in front of the others as a warning, the pain under your skin as the wires pushed in deeper to your wrists, the sharp pain of hands across flesh, raw and red-

The black haired man paused, his face contorting in confusion for a second as thoughts began to flood into his head. Immediately the brown haired man began to let out the most terrible screams, and dropped to his knees, clutching his yellowed fingers to his head as if he wanted to rip it off to make the pain stop.

You looked up at the black haired man and froze to see him glaring at you, clearly fighting the images. His jaw was tense, and she hissed through his teeth in harsh, forced syllables. "What... did you... do... you bitch?"

You scowl, knowing that word immediately. No. NO. He was not going to treat you this way.

He slackened his grip, and for a moment you thought he was going to release you before his hand shot down and his fingers wrapped around your throat.

You fought for breath as he grimaced at you, eyes wild in pain. He struggled against the images in his mind. Your hands wrapped around his wrist, trying to force his hand off of you, but his grip was iron and it was barely any use.

You couldn't breathe. Your chest was aching for air, and you began to panic internally. You used the remaining force in your lungs to push out a throaty, horrible scream. The man cringed but grinned, obviously pleased by his upper hand in the situation. "Scream all ya' want, doll. No-one can hear ya' at night."

"I can."

The new male voice startled you, and something happened within your attacked. The man froze and released you from his arms. You plummeted and hit your back on the ground, knocking the wind out of you. You moaned and tried to inhale air, but ended up choking on it and coughing furiously. The moment the black haired man stopped focusing on you your powers invaded his mind, and he dropped to his knees, shaking furiously.

Behind him was a dark figure, massive in size with some kind of fabric hanging from his shoulders. As he stepped into the moonlight you realized it was nothing more than a suit, but he looked more forsakenly terrifying than most things you had seen.

The masked man raced to the brown haired man, who was now convulsing on the ground, some form of white foam coming from his mouth. The black haired man was fighting, but collapsing and shaking non-the-less.

Good. You had just come to this unfamiliar world, and already people wanted to harm you again.

Anger welled inside you, bubbling up your throat and bursting in your head. How dare they? How dare they harm you? What had you done? Was this how the world was? People hurt those who do not fight back?

Fine, you will show them all who is stronger.

You had regained some breath, and managed to drag yourself onto your feet, rattling in air through your teeth. Everyone wanted to hurt you. So be it. You would show them what pain you had gone through, starting with this man.

You could only imagine what your hair was doing, probably writhing in the air, with individual tendrils of silvery strands twitching and jerking as your anger flared. As you raised a hand, you saw those cursed black swirls winding back up your skin.

Your feet raised an inch from the ground. No, you could not fly, but it was common in the Patients to levitate when they were truly focused on their energy levels and the task at hand. You rose, and rose, until you found yourself glaring down at the three below you through unforgiving eyes. The black haired man was still fighting, the brown haired fool was convulsing, and the masked mystery had finally realized your presence.

"You poor fool." Your voice was different, somehow. There was another layer underneath it, a deeper voice, one on top of the other. "Now it is my turn to have fun with YOU." There was a horrible wet crunching sound and the black haired man let out a long, glorified screech, throwing his head back to reveal his wrist, which had been twisted around and around, revealing a deformed twig more than a human limb now.

The masked man stood there, and it was unclear whether or not he was phased. "Calm down!" He called out the order in such a sure voice. How could he act so calm? He wasn't even here to see what had happened. How could he be so assertive? Was it a trick of some kind? All smoke and mirrors? When you neglected to continue to snap the horrible black haired man into pieces, the masked figure continued. "Do you really want this?"

He was being calm about this. SO true to his word. Why was that?

"Why, so you can try to harm me?" Your voice wavered slightly, still suspicious, still unsure. It was so hard to understand this man. What made him know you hadn't wanted any fo this? WHO was he? The man was about to speak again, but you closed your eyes and sent out the image of the men standing over you, of you trying furiously to struggle away, into his mind. You sent him feelings of confusion and panic and hopelessness. When your eyes opened, he was obviously struggling against the energy, but incredibly resistant. You could almost feel his mind pushing the images back, before they overcame his barrier and forced themselves in anyways.

He dropped to his knees, grunting in pain, but still looked up at you for a moment.

Your temporary anger had begun to subside once your enemies where subdued, and you felt the soft earth touch to your bare feet once again as it began to melt away.

You took a step back, then another, eyes so wide the whites around the irises gleamed in the moonlight. Oh, no. You had done it again.

You shook your head back and forth, feeling your hair stop twitching in the process. There was no helping it now. You whipped around and rushed to the still moving lump of a body that was the black haired man. He was losing blood through his mouth, his hand horrible looking as he moaned weekly in some kind of unspeakable pain.

Holding your breath you forcefully leaned over and yanked his jacket off his body. As the sleeve was taken past his hand he let out another blood curling scream. You flinched back, but then returned to finish the job and tugged the garnet free, before tossing it over your raw shoulders. Immediately you shivered as warmth flooded over your skin in a soft blanket.

Your eyes returned to the masked man, who was struggling to stand as your powers forced him to witness the cruelties of PsyCo. Reluctantly, you inched over and very quickly lay a finger under his chin, lifting his eyes to meet yours. They were blue, you noted, then closed your eyes and imagined your energy fields retreating, going back into your mind, coming back home. Relief flooded his expression, features untwisting a bit as the effects began to fade.

You didn't have long. Immediately you spun on heel and took off darting into the woods with aching limbs and a bruised neck.


	4. Detective

"And the headache, Sir?"

Bruce sighed, pressing an ice pack to his forehead gratefully, his eyes closed in relief. "She did that too. Alfred, it was strange. She was obviously angry, anyone could see that. But she's like nothing I've seen before."

"What do you mean?" Alfred raised a grew brow, leaning over to snatch up another tylonol and some kind of home made herbal tea.

"Well for one, her hair did this... THING." He grunted slightly, trying to find a good way to word it. "It floated, but not just when she was using her powers. It was always floating, like it was stuck in a strong wind all the time. And her skin was practically snow colored." His voice was all-detective once again as he slid into the story, analyzing it in his mind. "She had these black tendrils that came over her body when she used her powers."

"Why do I feel as though you still haven't gotten tot he most interesting part?" Alfred mused, watching intently as the herbs int he tea soaked into the water, staining it a dark color.

"She sent me these images, Alfred. This isn't the first time I've hallucinated, but I actually FELT this. It was like being stuck in some kind of horror movie."

"Like Crane, Sir?"

"Yes, like that, but not exactly. She was defensive- she didn't want to kill me. And I saw these things- these people. The images where fast and painful, and I didn't get all of the information." Bruce leaned forwards in his chair and began to type away on the large monitor in the Bat Cave wall, searching. "Something about labs and research. I think it had something to do with the way she turned out like that."

There was a pause, before Bruce leaned back again and almost growled, "She's out in Gotham right now, Alfred. Who knows what she'll do? She doesn't want to hurt people, but she's dangerous. I have to get back out there."

Alfred hook his head. "Sir, you need to stay here and rest until these headaches go away. I'll send out Dick to investigate."

Bruce was obviously not pleased by the outcome of this, but grudgingly nodded anyways. "You sure he's fine out there alone?"

"He seems to think so?"

Bruce would have argued the point more, but a new wave of pain and nausea washed over him and he slumped back into his chair as Alfred stepped off to find Robin.


End file.
